


They Had It Comin'

by Courfeyrock_crushes_scissors



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, M/M, Prison AU, everyone did some fucked up shit, jehan is accidentally the worst one maybe, mentions of the patron minette, whoopsie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courfeyrock_crushes_scissors/pseuds/Courfeyrock_crushes_scissors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire finds himself in prison and meets an unlikely gang of misfit criminals that don't seem to fit in quite so well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes maybe the title is based off of the Cell Block Tango from Chicago but maybe it isn't we'll never know now huh

Grantaire never meant to get caught. No, that was never in the plan. But of course, with his shitty luck, he was found out. Probably some rat who didn't know how to keep their mouths shut in front of the pigs. Disgusting.

They take him through the whole damn process, and he's been through it all before. This isn't his first trip to prison, god no. It's actually only his second time, but the rest of the time he's in jail. Still a hard place to be. He's only twenty-six, but he's already a wreck. Ever since he came into the system as an adult, they've booked him several times. 

Another harsh cell block to call home. Better than real home, he thought. At least here they fed you three meals a day and gave you clothes that fit. To say that Grantaire's childhood was shit was an understatement. It was an eighteen year long hell. 

"Get in there, ugly." The guard spat and shoved him into the cell, slamming the bar shut. Everything these days were automated, and it clicked into place. Grantaire just laughed and stumbled into the cold cell. 

"Ugly? That one I haven't heard before. Please, keep telling me things I don't know." He rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to spit on the guard. He had learned a few things about the court system and the law. Just lay low, don't pick fights, and that there was always a guy with the goods. 

He settled down on the cot and held his head in his hands. He was a big alcoholic, which wouldn't be too hard to find. Finding drugs was going to be harder. Ironically, of course, that was why he was there. Drug trafficking, a bit of prostitution, and some seriously shady background work for some high-up scumbags. Anything to get him some sort of money. 

When the bust went down, everything was a clusterfuck. They had all been in some big warehouse, which was cliche as fuck. Then of course, there was a raid by the pigs. Guns and smoke bombs, and lots of screaming. It was mostly a bunch of shady ass drug dealers and their whores, all sitting around and trying to figure out a way to cart their recent shipment of crank over to New York without seeming suspicious. 

Grantaire had gotten caught up in the shit, even though he wasn't even there, really. He hadn't been connected to any of the others, so he could've gotten away with it if he had weasled enough. He was about ninety-nine percent sure that that fucker Babet had ratted him out. He had never liked him. 

So there he sat, in another fucking prison cell. Ten years, with chance of parole. Grantaire's stomach growled and he groaned. Back to slop and water that tasted like copper. Great. Just what he needed to finish off a fantastic fucking week. 

A guard came up to his cell a moment later and whacked the bars with his baton. "Hey, faggot. Lunch is being served, get up."

At least the guards were friendly this time around.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire meets the gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no idea where this is going omg I am sorry just hang in with me for the ride.

The dining hall was like any other dining hall. It almost looked like one at a school. Except this one was filled with scary ass inmates and it was lined with policemen and lots of locked doors. 

Grantaire got his tray of furry slop and sat down at a table all by himself. Not that he wanted to sit with anyone, god no. Everyone here looked like they would rather eat him for breakfast. Which might happen, if he wasn't careful. 

A commotion at the front caught his attention, and he turned his head to look at the scuffle. It wasn't two inmates, surprisingly. It was a skinny little wisp of a thing, with ginger hair and freckles. He was kicking up a whole hissy fit, and Grantaire tried to hear what he was saying.

"Just because I'm an inmate, does NOT mean you can touch my ass," ginger boy hissed. The cop just sort of snorted and walked away, and it seemed that the kid was trying not to punch him in his big back. "Fuck you!" He flipped him off and went to get his food. The kid must have a great eye, because he brought his stuff over to Grantaire's table and sat down across from him. 

"Hi. You're new. I'm Jean, but call me Jehan."

"I'm Grantaire. Call me R." The brunette surveyed the scrawny little thing and raised an eyebrow. "What're you in for?" Grantaire was genuinely curious. This kid looked like a flower child, with his feminine face, long hair, and flower tattoos that peeked out from his sleeves and collar. 

"Murder charges, but he deserved it."

"They always do." Grantaire nodded, resuming eating his absolutely delicious meal. "If you don't mind me asking, who was the poor bastard?"

"My father. He was homophobic, racist, and an all-out douchebag. So I stabbed him a few times one day when he was kicking my ass. The judge, another homophobic ass, decided that I was plotting my father's murder all along. Here I am, doing twenty to life." 

Grantaire snorted in disgust. "The legal system is total shit." 

Jehan's big green eyes lit up and he grinned. "You think so too? Of course you do, you're in prison. But you should really meet my friends. They should get here soon, but seriously. You'd like them. Lots of us are in here for life, but some of the others are only in here for a little bit. I hope I can get my book published while I'm in prison."

"Your friends? I guess." Grantaire had never bothered too much with the whole making friends thing. Not even outside of prison. If he got a letter, it was probably going to be from Eponine or Montparnasse, the two friends he had managed to make outside of prison walls. 

"Ah, here they come now!" 

He turned his head and spotted probably the most laughable group of inmates. All except for three, maybe. All of them were way too cheery and way too friendly looking to be in prison. Maybe they were crazy. 

"Jehan-- who is this?" One with curly brown hair walked up and slid in beside Jehan, draping an arm around him. "You look scary. My name is Courfeyrac. And before you ask, yes, I'm much too fabulous to be in prison." 

Yeah, this group was much too sparkly. "Grantaire, this is my boyfriend. He's in for being involved in a murder conspiracy against some politicians." He rolled his eyes and Courfeyrac grinned proudly. "We almost got away with it, so that's all I care about. At least the bastards have been scared so badly they're out of office now."

Grantaire laughed, and was quickly flanked by two more guys. One was tall, like a fucking tree, and had glasses and sandy hair. The other was blonde and absolutely ethereal. Grantaire stared at him, and he was sure he was in love. Not that he knew what love felt like. 

"Combeferre and Enjolras." Jehan gestured to the two. "Leaders of our little clan, I guess. Not that they're very frightening."

"Excuse me, but I lead a large riot in the middle of New York City that successfully changed the lives of many LGBTQ students! The death of a hundred or so cops was a small price to pay for the change of the world."

"While I would usually think that's complete shit to think you can change the world, I congratulate you on knocking out an entire police department in one go. Impressive."

Enjolras didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. He went with the first. "I will change the world. As we are speaking, I'm getting prisoner signatures to get better treatment in courts."

This only earned him an eyeroll from the brunette. Enjolras didn't look too pleased, but Jehan cut in before more fighting could happen. "Alright, alright. You're both pretty. Meet the rest of us, R."

The ginger boy pointed at everyone, telling him their names and their reasons for being in. "That's Bahorel, and he's in for manslaughter and assisted murder. Feuilly is in for prostitution and drug handling. Joly was a doctor who stole a shit ton of medicine, and Bossuet tried to smuggle in hospital meds to Joly while he was in prison." 

The thin, sickly looking one just smiled and shrugged. "I had serious cists in my stomach!" Feuilly sighed. "No, you had a stomach ache." 

"Combeferre is in for counterfeiting and some serious hacking into government organization websites to alter presidential ballots. It worked, too." 

A brunette boy with freckles ran over to them and set his tray down. "She's just beautiful," he sighed wistfully. Everyone seemed to collectively groan. "This is Marius. He's in prison for being framed for his father's murder. It was actually a family friend, because Marius wouldn't hurt a fly."

"And he's in love with the cook, Cosette. Also the daughter of the warden, Valjean." Jehan patted Marius on the head. "We think she has a soft spot for him, since she seems to give him more food than the rest of us."

"The bastard," Bahorel growled, but it was friendly and good-natured. Never before had Grantaire met criminals who were friendly. 

"So what're you in for?" Courfeyrac asked, his curiosity reflected in everyone's eyes. 

Grantaire retold his tale.


End file.
